Promise
by the-warner-syndrome
Summary: Whether she stands there or not, my thought of her never changes: she's beautiful, she's strong, she stands up for what she wants—and that's what I love about her. That's what I love about Hime Onizuka.


Promise

"_Hey, Bossun!"  
I look up at her—the beautiful blond standing in front of me. She may not know it, but the way she stands there, surrounded by the afternoon sunlight, smiling, makes her so beautiful in a way that not even the word "beautiful" cannot describe her. That word would be far from it. _

_But whether she stands there or not, my thought of her never changes: she's beautiful, she's strong, she stands up for what she wants—and that's what I love about her. _

_That's what I love about Hime Onizuka._

"_What is it?" I walk toward her, both hands on my pockets, and she says nothing. She turns her back to me and continued walking when I was able to catch up with her. I take out my hand for her and she takes it. The warmth of her soft hand was something not new to me; it was my comfort. Everything about her was familiar to me. Her touch, her voice, her scent, her love… _

_And her voice is the only thing that can break me from the deepness of my thoughts. _

"_It's just… Do you think we'll last?" Her voice is laced with worry, and I do not know how to comfort her. I don't even know how she thought of the question. _

_She knows this is something I couldn't answer with honesty, but I could answer her with what I believe: _

"_I think we will." _

_That was all she needed. Comfort. It's something she's never received in the past, and it's something I've always given her. _

_She breathes a sigh of relief and squeezes my hand. In that moment I didn't know why she was curious, but I knew she wasn't convinced, so I urged for her to stop and leaned my face to hers. _

"_We will," I whisper into her lips. "It's a promise." _

But I guess she never really was convinced. If she was then maybe God could've given her another chance.

And now I'm standing here, in front of her pale body.

She's dead. She's dead and I don't know what to do. When you see the person you love the most lifeless in front of you, you never really don't know what to do first. To scream, to cry, to yell, to nothing. I don't know—I just don't know.

Then, like the car accident, it hit me:

If I had stopped her, she wouldn't have died.

If I hadn't fought with her, she would still be in my arms. Living. Breathing.

If I had proposed to her then, my heart would still be whole.

I feel so guilty. I don't care if it wasn't my fault because that's the problem. Someone has to take the blame—someone has to remember—and that someone is me.

The moment Switch's hand grips my shoulder, I break down. My knees collapse to the ground and I cry. I cried and cried until I had to force them out of me. I knelt there until everyone had left, including Switch. I stared at her casket until a storm brewed.

This wouldn't have happened.

_Do you think we'll last?_

I thought we would.

_We will._

Then why is she dead?!

_I promise._

And it's a promise I intend to keep.

One week later

I'm looking at my callused hands, the letter placed flat on my palm. In this letter, everything is written. Everything about Himeko. Her beauty, her accomplishments, her story. The tragedy that is her past.

I also promised her this. That I will never tell a single soul about her past.

But this promise is something I don't want to keep.

This will be the last promise I will ever break.

Someone needs to know the story. The story of the girl whose past was too painful to bare. The story of the girl who met and fell for a foolish boy. The story of the girl who died on a car accident because the person who loved her was an idiot.

After seven days of emptiness, the thought of everything makes me laugh. I spent twenty seven years finding the answer to why I exist. I found the answer when I was seventeen. In those ten years after finding my answer, I knew now why I existed.

I existed solely for her.

I was meant to be for her.

And whether it remains the same in the afterlife, I don't care.

I place the letter inside the pocket of my jacket, hoping that someone would soon find it.

And then, my last thoughts:

_I'm keeping my promise, Himeko. _

_We'll last. _

_I love you. _

Then, standing at this twenty-story building

I jumped.


End file.
